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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827302">The New World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bauble/pseuds/bauble'>bauble</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Inception (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:13:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bauble/pseuds/bauble</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>American Revolution AU, wherein Arthur is a colonial rebel and Eames a gunrunning war profiteer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur/Eames (Inception)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The New World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Another day, another hovel overflowing with inebriated rustics whining about taxes. Perhaps colonial subjects prefer taverns to stink of vomit and stale beer. It may well be their most effective strategy for insurrection yet; Eames hasn’t encountered anyone of proper breeding within these dimly lit walls since he stepped foot on the muddy shores of the New World.</p><p>It nearly rouses a twinge of longing for the mother country. Nearly.</p><p>	A large, familiar crate lands on the table in front of Eames, knocking over his bowl of flavorless soup (the precise type of which was never made clear by the surly innkeeper). The soup hadn’t been particularly good, but Eames had been expecting to finish it all the same.</p><p>	“You owe me money.” The voice is male, inflected with a terribly awkward colonial accent. Not unpleasant to listen to, in spite of that.</p><p>	“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” Eames sits back and blinks at the stranger in a long, dark jacket and tri-corner hat. Stern, boyish features. Strikingly handsome, despite his sour expression. “I retract my words. I’m certain I would remember… making the acquaintance of someone such as yourself.”</p><p>	The scowl on the colonist's face deepens even as his gaze flickers down to Eames’ mouth. “A Redcoat. Figures.” Ah. One of the rebels.</p><p>	“Oh no no, I assure you that I am an apolitical free agent with no ties to the Crown forces.” Officially. “I have come to this land in search of adventure and—”</p><p>	“Another exile.” Handsome Scowl snorts. “Whatever. You sold my company commander defective goods. I’m here to get our money back.”</p><p>	“<i>Moi</i>?” Eames takes a peek inside the crate, which is filled with familiar armaments. “Why, I do believe this container contains contraband. I have no idea where you think a man such as myself would ever acquire such devices, much less pass them along to—”</p><p>	Handsome Scowl sighs as he pulls his coat back to reveal a short sword hanging from his belt. “No more debate. Take this box of broken crap and give me the money.”</p><p>	“Nothing would bring me greater pleasure,” Eames murmurs as his gaze travels from literal blade to the metaphorical one outlined between delightfully sculpted thighs. “But I’m afraid I spent my last farthing on the soup that’s now congealing on the surface of this sawed-off tree trunk someone claims is a table.” At the narrowing of the Handsome Scowl’s eyes, Eames hastily adds, “But if I might make a proposal for an… alternative form of repayment?”</p><p>	Handsome Scowl’s eyes narrow further. “What alternative form?”</p><p>	This is how Eames ends up in a tavern backroom, face-down on a dirty mattress. Whoever stuffed the mattress wasn’t particularly discerning with its contents, as it smells of rotting vegetation and feels like a pincushion of brittle hay.  However, the magnificent cock up Eames’ arse does ease some of the discomfort, as does the toe-curlingly good pace Handsome Scowl has set. The fucking is neither measured nor patient, but Eames can’t muster the breath needed to protest before he spends himself across the floor.</p><p>	Handsome Scowl finishes with a shuddering thrust and a delightful groan. Eames would feel smug, but it is difficult when one is practically drooling in their own afterglow.</p><p>	Eames hears the tell-tale rattle of meager coinage and lolls his head to the side. Handsome Scowl is holding Eames’ purse in one hand and frowning. “You really did spend it all, didn’t you?”</p><p>	Eames raises a single postcoital shoulder. “I could be persuaded to offer more in trade.”</p><p>	“Still got a box of useless crap and no money.” Handsome Scowl swats Eames’ arse absentmindedly. “What the fuck am I going to tell Cobb?”</p><p>	“That you deposited the faulty armaments with me, extracted the money, and had it confiscated by a roving military patrol on your way back to meet him,” Eames says, a yawn cracking halfway through his words. “Unless you’d like to explain that buggery for access to my purse yielded nothing.” This leads to an even deeper frown.</p><p>	“Doesn’t solve the underlying problem.”</p><p>	Eames rolls onto his back. Handsome Scowl is still mostly dressed in that hideous militia getup, face flushed, and utterly delicious. “Darling, you are far too dour for a man who has been provided both a remarkable orgasm and a perfectly acceptable solution.”</p><p>	“And you seem awfully eager to sell out your own side,” Handsome Scowl muses. Before Eames can assert that he finds it far more profitable to never take sides, Handsome Scowl adds, “But maybe you’re not feeling so loyal after being exiled.”</p><p>	“What a quaint term,” Eames replies. “I am a businessman who has traveled great distances in search of new opportunities.”  </p><p>	“Gunrunning and war profiteering not such a good racket back home?” Handsome Scowl’s tone is bone dry, surprisingly devoid of self-righteousness.</p><p>	“I find my skills garner greater appreciation on the front lines.” Eames sits up and stretches indolently. “As do yours, I’m certain.”</p><p>	Eames feels his heartrate quicken as Handsome Scowl’s gaze trawls over his body like a hot iron. Handsome Scowl’s hand cups the back of Eames’ head almost tenderly before taking hold of hair and yanking back sharply. Eames gasps as Handsome Scowl devours his mouth, cock hardening yet again under the multisensory assault.</p><p>	What a degenerate, bizarre place this New World is; the ludicrous tales he heard on the wretched ship crossing seem utterly chaste in retrospect. As Handsome Scowl knees Eames’ legs wide open once more, Eames supposes there might be a few things to recommend this continent besides the potential to accrue enormous sums of money. Perhaps he might even persuade Handsome Scowl to abandon the misguided, futile rebellion in favor of more lucrative and enjoyable exploits; truly, anything might be possible in this uncultivated wilderness.</p><p>fin</p>
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